


keep you from the loneliness of yourself

by marquis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, signs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-20 02:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marquis/pseuds/marquis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam's feeling down after seeing the rude signs. He doesn't want the other boys to find out about them, but Louis does anyway. Fluff ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep you from the loneliness of yourself

**Author's Note:**

> So I was at the concert last night and hearing about the signs made me absolutely livid and terribly sad all at once. The only possible reaction is obviously to write a fic that makes me feel better. Obviously.  
> Title from Smashing Pumpkins' "Farewell and Goodnight"; I had Birdy's cover of it on repeat while writing this, but the original is just as lovely.

He’d thought all the other boys were already asleep when he sent the tweet. Really, he had. It had been a long day, as usual, and nothing quite wore them out like a concert and the following sprint through the parking lot. They had already wasted what little energy they had left tackling and poking and prodding, asking incessant questions – “Did you see that one who,” and “What about when you did,” and “No, no! The best part was when,” all tangled over one another like too many songs playing at once.

Zayn had been the first to go, making his way out of the lounge with a quiet little apology that Liam almost hadn’t heard. Harry had been next, yawning into his hands and stumbling through the doorway with his ever-present lack of coordination. Niall had been the third to leave, still giggling over something and swatting at his eyes with the back of his hand.

And then it had just been Louis, twirling his phone in his hands. He didn’t calm down quite so easily as the others did, spent most nights after concerts with a glint in his eye and a smile on his lips, prepared to pull a prank on someone as soon as their breaths evened out. But he’d been with Eleanor for most of the day, and there was no one better for keeping him calm and under control, for leveling out all of his crazy ups and downs. There was no doubt in Liam’s mind that she was who he’d been texting since they left the arena, even though she was right there with them, staying in the next bus with the band.

Liam didn’t have that anymore. He tried very hard not to think about it.

Louis had said a quick goodnight, run his hand over Liam’s hair, and made his way out of the lounge. Finally, _finally_ , Liam was left to deal with what he hadn’t been mentioning all night, the one moment he hadn’t wanted to talk about with the lads.

So he’d typed it out, slow and unsteady, reading it over and over to make sure there weren’t any spelling errors even though he knew he wouldn’t catch them all. He’d hit send before he could think too much about it, before he could second-guess himself.

They’d told him to shut up, hadn’t they? What was he doing, trying to talk to people who obviously didn’t want to listen? It wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t make it any better. He knew that, but he also knew that there had been other signs. About how they don’t meet enough of the fans, don’t even try – _there aren’t enough hours in the day_ , he would like to say, but he’d spent plenty of hours sitting in his bunk with nothing to do, so what kind of honesty was that? –, and even if he couldn’t make it better and shut up, he could certainly try and make the others understand that he felt horribly, that he _wanted_ to meet them all.

Because he did. It didn’t feel like enough, thanking them all from where he stood on the stage, lifted up onto a pedestal and watched from below like something beautiful. He wasn’t, he was just some normal kid from Wolverhampton, and without the fans lifting him up, he’d still be just like them, watching his idols on stage and wishing they would see him. It didn’t feel like enough to thank a crowd when what he really wanted was to thank them all individually, to give them hugs or shake their hands or give them some kind of medal, _something_ –

His thoughts were scattered by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Liam looked up, more than a bit startled, to find Louis looking at him with arms crossed and brow furrowed.

“D’you know, Liam, that when we ask how you’re feeling after the show, we are expecting an honest answer,” he said, and it started out sounding like a question but ended up sounding more like a scolding. “Not some bullshit about how you had a lovely time when you really apparently didn’t.”

It could almost be comical, Louis trying to be intimidating; he’s really very small, and in a pair of worn sleep pants and a soft t-shirt, hair falling feather-light over his eyes, he looked very cuddly. Despite the look on his face, Liam almost wanted to pet him. Now didn’t seem like a good time.

He nodded instead, looking guiltily at the phone in his hands. “I know.”

Louis didn’t seem to like that answer. He made his way over, taking the phone from Liam’s hands and setting it on the floor. “See, I don’t think you really do,” he intoned, wrapping his fingers around Liam’s elbows. “Because if you did, you would have _told_ us that you were upset, and I wouldn’t have found out about it because of an alert on my phone. If I hadn’t been texting Eleanor, actually, I probably wouldn’t have seen it at all. Which is probably what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“It was just – only until the morning, I promise,” and that part, at least, was true. There was no way they wouldn’t have seen when they woke up, even if Liam had gotten away with it for a few hours. “I just wanted to apologize.”

It was reassuring, feeling Louis’ thumbs dig into his skin. It kept him from drifting off and thinking, just for a moment, of why he felt sorry at all. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. Those people with their signs spent hundreds of dollars just to make you feel bad, mate, and if that isn’t pathetic, then I don’t really know what is.”

Liam didn’t like it when the other boys fussed over him. He knew that they did it, of course, saw it firsthand every now and then, but he didn’t _like_ it. He was supposed to be the mature one, the sensible one, the one who can deal with all of their problems and fret and worry for them. That’s what he _did._ He tried to make them worry less. Seeing the worry so plain and open on Louis’ face just then was like a punch, more proof that he wasn’t any good at anything he tried to do.

“No. No, no, no. Liam James Payne, if you’re about to go shutting me out, I swear that I will throw you off this bus myself.” He sounded serious as anything, as well, and Liam couldn’t help smiling just a little bit at that. Louis probably could throw him, if he tried, but certainly not very far.

He decided to say as much. “I don’t think you’re capable of that, Lou.” It sounded almost like a challenge.

Of course Louis saw it that way, as well. His grip on Liam’s elbows tightened for just a moment, a quick squeeze before he moved to wrap his arms around Liam’s shoulders and pull, tug until they both tumbled off of the couch and onto the floor. They rolled around a bit, Louis’ fingers poking at all of Liam’s squishy bits until he was breathless from the laughter, helpless in the onslaught of Louis, of his smile and his bright eyes and his little huffs of breath on Liam’s skin.

When they calmed down, when Louis was resting his head on Liam’s chest and Liam was running his fingers through Louis’ fringe, it was difficult not to smile. Liam looked down at Louis and found him looking back, smile softer and smaller, a little bit more secret.

“There’s my Liam,” he stated, reaching up to poke Liam’s nose. “I missed you.”

Liam huffed. “How could you miss me? I didn’t go anywhere.”

“Liar.”

And, well, he wasn’t about to argue anymore, so he didn’t say anything to that. Instead, the two of them made their way out of the lounge. Liam stripped and clambered into his bunk. His limbs were tired and heavy, and his eyes were already closing when Louis pulled back the curtain and crawled in beside him.

Liam hesitated. “I don’t think these bunks are meant to hold two people, Lou.” And they both knew that wasn’t really the problem, but it was the only way he knew how to say it, how to tell him that the lines were already blurring and this was a dangerous game they were playing at.

“I’ve already texted El. She saw the tweet and she knows you need me more right now.” Louis pressed a kiss to Liam’s lips, light and chaste. “You take yourself too seriously sometimes.”

There was no argument to make. He couldn’t win this, and they both knew it. So he allowed himself to be manhandled, moved around and wrapped around Louis like a blanket.

“Goodnight, Lou.”

“Shut up, Liam.”


End file.
